Mind If I Smash Out? (DISCONTINUED)
by GrandMassaSpectre
Summary: Impossible. Unachievable. Unlikely. A former UFC fighter had to here those words throughout his life due to a physical disability that plagued him. Now, a new light shines on him as he moves forward.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: This take place after the World of Light.**

 **DING! DING! DING!**

The bell signals the end of the eighth round in the Ultimate Fighting Championship exhibition match. An twenty five year old African American male in white trunks had his opponent, who was clad in forest green trunks, in a rear naked choke. It took the referee to pry the two men loose. Finally separated, they both head towards their corners to remedy any wounds that slipped through their trained eye. The ebony male's name is Alphonse, also known as 'Al', Starks. He had a black, taper fade with a bushy goatee; he was average built with a fair amount of muscle that you would usually see on a mixed martial artist. Now, Al, is a...unique individual with a handicap. A physical one at that: he had a congenital limb deficiency that cost him his right forearm at birth. His parents was devastated at the horrid reveal about their son.

Quickly, Al had to adjust to live a normal life with only one hand: he had learn how to tie his shoes, write, play anything involved two hands, and learned to grasp objects with his stump. The first sport that he played was football at the age of ten. It was grueling for the poor guy. He can take a tackle but he couldn't catch to save his life as he wanted to play wide receiver. At the end of practice, his coach shook his head at the pitiful display and told him to just go home. Heartbroken, Al ran home in tears as his peers mocked him for his failure. His father comforted him as Al cried his heart out. He eventually got over it but this set a pit of white hot fire in Al's stomach as he willed himself to learn how to catch the ball with the help of his friends and father. Next year, he returned and fought for his spot, which he won. Afterwards, he played until he was seventeen, winning a few championships here and there.

He then turned his attention to MMA, which he watched regularly on his downtime. His idol was Jim Abbott, who also had the same disability as Al. Abbott's achievements in the realm of baseball prompted Al to take on the challenge of being an UFC fighter; however, he need to learn how to fight. He asked his father to enroll him in the local Muay Thai classes in downtown New York. His father was somewhat against the idea but trusted that his son can take of himself. Al's time during his Muay Thai classes was one of the hardest things he did in his life. He had to learn how to block with one hand and he was beaten senseless but he eventually earned his keep and his black belt. He worked his way through the amateur fight scene but it was tough to come by good competition because of his stump of an arm and also pride of losing and/or fighting a man with a disability. You think that was hard, he had to bust his ass to finally fight in the UFC, which no one else of his caliber attempted.

"Alright, kid. Last round. I see that you've been working his head but he got one good shot on your right rib. You need to keep a tight guard on it until you can get a good shot on his noggin. You get me?" Reggie Price, Al's coach and trainer, informed while patting an ice cold towel on Al's right eyebrow.

Al hissed in pain from the stinging sensation, "Loud and clear, Reg."

"Atta boy! Make 'em hurt!" Reggie grinned, patting Al on his shoulder.

 **DING! DING! DING!**

Rising up, Al walked to the middle of the octagon where his opponent did the same. The crowd blew the roof off with their cheers as they glared each other down. "Fighters...ready?!" The referee shouted over the cheers. Al nodded and so did his opponent as they touched gloves. The referee nodded before he stepped back, "Alright...FIGHT!"

Raising his stump closer to his face along with his left fist, Al slowly circled the ring while his opponent pranced around as well. The opponent had the strength advantage and is a formidable grappler. Earlier in the fight, he got a good right hook to Al's right rib...and slammed him with a hip toss on the same aching rib. Al used his speed and opted for hit and run tactics to wear him down. Growling, the opponent attempted to grab Al, which the Afro male dodged with a simple sidestep. The opponent tried again but Al used the chain-link wall to maneuver around him; however, the opponent capitalized this by pouncing Al as he landed, tacking him into an abdominal stretch on Al's right side. Pain rattled Al's body as he struggled to squirm free, sending out more shock waves of distress from his ribs. Grunting in frustration, Al began to jab his right elbow to his opponent's face repeatedly to make him let go.

Eventually, the method work as the opponent finally released Al to tend to his throbbing head. Ignoring his aching ribs, Al advanced quickly to the opponent with the intention of putting him to the canvas for good. Left hook. Right elbow. Left cross. Right knee. Left uppercut. Right roundhouse. Left spinning backhand. All of these connected to the opponent on any unprotected areas of the head, forcing him to one knee as the crowd's excitement for this bloodbath shined through and through. Sprinting towards the opponent one more time, Al jumped and drove his knee underneath the opponent's jaw and then swinging his right elbow to the opponent's right cheek. Reeling from the assault, the opponent finally goes down and never gets up again. Once more, Al began running but is stopped by the referee.

"Stop, STOP! I think he's down," The referee stated, looking over his shoulder to the battered opponent. Breathing heavily, Al stepped back and watched as the referee counted to ten. The opponent didn't even twitch a finger in response to the count out.

"THE WINNER IS ALPHONSE STARKS BY A TECHNICAL KNOCKOUT!" The announcer exclaimed triumphantly as the referee raised Al's arm. Alphonse took in the bouts of cheers, whoops, and hollers. His own team grabbed him in a group hug as they celebrated with their fighter.

"Good job, Al! Never doubted you for a second," Reggie praised honestly, clutching Al's shoulder with a warm smile.

Al smiled in response, "Well, you know not to lose faith in yours truly, Reg." The two shared a laugh as Reggie look out to the crowd who was chanting Al's name. He sighed before turning to Al with a sad smile.

"This is one of the reasons I loved working with guys like you, kid. These bloodthirsty maniacs right here! The money and the girls to a lesser extent but you know what I mean. Are you sure that you want to throw all of this away?" Reggie pried, causing Al to roll his eyes and shake his head.

"Reggie, we've talked about this. I'm just...not feelin' this anymore, man. Also, more and more young fighters had their careers cut short because of them being careless. I know that I don't have room to talk because of my cockiness but I know DAMN well to fold 'em," Al retorted, swigging down some water from a water bottle.

Reggie shrugged with an frown, clearly undaunted by Al's confession but he understood and respected his decision, "Fine, kid. Your life, not mines. Now, how are you gonna break to everyone at the post match conference?" He asked, pointing to the audience.

"Eh, I just be blunt with 'em. It worked for me in the past. Besides, it ain't gonna kill 'em," Al grinned.

Reggie nodded, "True." They began to make their way to the locker room so that Al can get changed.

 **A/N: What's this?! A brand new story!? Yep, after keeping up with Smash Ultimate for the past few months, this was brewing inside my stomach for a while until I finally said: fuck it, lets do this. Now, I know that this OC in this particular situation is very uncanny but there are actually a guy that has a physical disability that plays in professional sports; however, he's in the NFL, not the UFC, and his name is Shaquem Griffin. In that case, anything is possible and it inspired me to write this story. Now, things are going to be slow until chapter three so hang tight. I just wrote this so that I can lay down the foundations of this story.**

 **Oh naw, they nerfed Luigi's grab!? *takes out phone* Siri, cancel my preorder!**


	2. Testing the Waters

Questions. Lots and lots of questions. Questions that pertains to Al's sudden retirement. His answers stewed within him as he dozed calmfully in his queen sized bed. Utter shock spurred from the press as they ask the now former UFC fighter the one inquiry: why? He basically answered every single question in various ways but they all had the same meaning: every fight he accepted would have been his last if he was careless. He proven to be formidable even without his right hand but he felt like he was risking it all for a paycheck. ...Although the payout is very hefty.

As he slept through the night, the voices in his head feud over if the hasty retirement was even worth attempting. Sure, he had money to last him for a few years..if he doesn't go spending all willy-nilly. Now, the new situation unfolds: how is he going to make ends meet when the money pile dries up. Actually, the voices in his head are getting louder. Too loud for comfort. He covered his head with his pillow to drown out the excessive noise.

"Now, Crazy. I want you to be on your best behavior and TRY, and I MEAN TRY, not to pull anyone of you shenanigans," One baritone voice with a reverb warned. The voice had mature but annoyed tone as if he dealt with whoever he is talking to often.

"Come on, bro, I just wanna know if the guy likes waffles. Which reminds me...do you like waffles?" A second tenor voice with a similar reverb effect. This one, weirdly named Crazy, had more, well, a crazed tone like this question is something you asked on a regular basis.

Baritone sighed in annoyance, "Crazy."

"ANSWER! THE QUESTION!" Crazy barked in anger.

Baritone sighed again, "Yes, I like waffles."

"Do you like pancakes?" Crazy followed up.

"Yes, I like pancakes," Baritone replied flatly.

"Do you like french toast?"

"Crazy..."

"SAY IT, MASTER!" Crazy screamed, anger returning at breakneck speed. Did he just call the other guy...master? What the fuck is going on?!

"Yes..I like french toast." Master answered as if he said it through clenched teeth.

"DODODO, CAN'T WAIT TO GET A MOUTH-"

Growling angrily, Al tossed the pillow away, which knocked over a lamp. This foolishness has to stop! This is his first time off since a month ago, and these ninnies are screwing up his sleep?! This ain't it, chief! "YO, SHUT THE FUCK Uhhhhhhhh!?" Finally, getting a look to the two numbskulls, he found something very, and I mean, VERY pecuilar about them. Right in front of the former kickboxer, were two, giant, floating, white hands! ...This has to be a fuckin' dream. One hand had a calm demeanor about him...her...it!? The other one...well it was spazzing about everywhere, looking like it was about to have a stroke at any given second. "Who...or...what are you two!?" Al spoke cautiously, fearing for his life.

"I'll answer your question with my own. Are you Alphonse Starks?" The calm hand questioned, inching forward to Al, which he nodded. "Good, I am called Master Hand." He does a presenting gesture to the other chaotic hand. "This is my younger twin brother, Crazy Hand."

"HIIIIIIIIIIYA!" Crazy greeted, waving energetically.

Utterly dumbfounded, Al gave himself a mighty fierce pinch to wake himself, which wasn't helpful since he already was. "Ow! Now, here's my second question. Why are you here?"

"We are here for you, Alphonse. We've been looking for a representative for the human beings for a month now. Now, we could just look for someone else athletically gifted but your stories that the internet published about your trials are simply marvelous to me!" Master Hand praised, jutting a thumbs up.

"Well, uh, thank you. A bit creepy but I appreciate it nonetheless. Now, what this rep you need me for anyhow?" Al pried, scratching his goatee curiously.

"The Smash Brothers Tournament, ya boob!" Crazy exclaimed, fist pumping excitedly.

"Enough, Crazy! Yes, the fifth Smash Bros. tournament is beginning in December. Warriors, swordsmen, bounty hunters, beasts small and big come together in epic brawl to take him the gold AND the glory. Crazy and I are the overseers of the event," Master informed, displaying past footage of the fourth tourney through a energy ball.

Al gazed through ball to see a short and stocky mustached man in red holding...an ape wearing a tie by his feet as he swung, swung like a hammer toss before flinging said ape away like he wasn't nothing. ...Well then. "Ooooookay."

"Now, I know this is something entire new for you but there are other humans in the tourney as well. For instance, Little Mac is a world champion boxer right here in the Bronx but his willpower had saw him through some very sticky situations," Master retorted assuringly.

"Then there's Ryu who goes all, 'HADOKEN!' and 'SHORYUKEN!' It's seriously awesome when he nails a moron with it!" Crazy vouched, imitating the hand motions of the wandering warrior.

"Uhhh, huh. Look, this is a lot to take in. Is there anyway I can experience this on a lower scale?" Al wondered, unsure about how many participants that are in the championship.

"The newcomer meet and greet! Bro, tell him about it!" Crazy urged, jittering even moreso than usual.

Master nodded, "Yes, the newcomer meet and greet is where the rookie Smashers come and socialize with one another before their eventual bouts. Only first year Smashers are allowed to attend. Crazy and I thought it will be better for the veterans to experience the newcomers themselves. In total, there are nine combatants. You can do that if you like?"

"Now, that's better! So when is it?" Al pried, getting out of bed to stretch.

"Tonight, bucko! Be there or be a total square!" Crazy responded, while performing figure eights in the air. How is he able to do that in a tightly confided room is beyond me.

Al yawned, "Be there I shall. Now, mind leaving? I need my maximum sleep time."

"Very well. Come, Crazy, we'll return tonight to pick you up, Alphonse," Master instructed, opening a portal on the ceiling. He floated upward, disappearing into the portal.

"See ya, Alleyway!" Crazy waved before zipping after Master. The portal closed instantly as Al flopped back to his bed.

"Oh, Lord, what have I got myself into?" Al asked to himself, shaking his head before going back ro sleep.

Ten hours later...

The moonlight assisted the multitude of city lights in lighting the numerous pathways in New York. Al's apartment just so happens to dimly lit with a old lightbulb. The man in question was sitting on the steps in a white hooded sweatshirt with matching white sweatpants. He also wore black Nike Air Forces along with a white skully to protect himself against the brisk autumn weather. "HEEERRRRRRE'S CRAZY!" Crazy popped in front of Al's face scaring him.

"Crazy, do you mind?! My apologies, Alphonse. Are you ready to go?" Master hovered over Al.

Al took a deep breath to calm his nerves, "Yeah. Let's go." But before they could, a thought came up, "Wait, are there anyone around here? What if you get spotted?"

"You act like this is the first time we've recruited a fighter, Alphonse. Everytime we travel to a new dimension, I use a invisibility spell so that only those that are recruited can see us," Master explained before opening a portal. "We must make haste. The others are already there!" He zipped through the portal.

"Last one there is a rotten egg! Which is you!" Crazy joked before following Master. Al smirked before following them as well.

Thirty seconds later...

The exit portal opens up and the three emerged from it into a well lit foyer. It had carpet flooring along with a long couch and a banner that says 'WELCOME NEW SMASHERS!' There was huge double door made of pure oak at the end of the foyer. "Welcome to our universe, Alphose. The SMASH UNIVERSE!" Master announced happily.

"Make yourself at home. Also, wipe your feet. You weren't raised in a barn!" Crazy ordered.

"Now, Crazy and I have some business to attend to. Alphonse, you go ahead through those doors and mingle with everyone," Master prodded before teleporting away.

"Yeah, what he said," Crazy added before leaving too.

"Well, lucky for those, mingling is my specialty!" Al boasted, making his way to the doors. He gave them a big push to open up the way. "Now, this doesn't sound too ba-what the FUCK!?" He saw a crocodile with an insanely large golden belly, a red, tattered cape, and golden crown trotting on all fours after a purple space dragon who has a huge turkey leg in its mouth. He looked up from the weirdness to find even more off the wall shit: eight teens that had colorful tentacles for hair were talking to a yellow female dog in comfortable clothes and a red, fire-oriented cat with the look of a wrestler. A disconcerting person in a dark blue futuristic suit of armor with a cannon for a right arm floated in one place, gazing ominously at the other party goers. A blue haired man in white regal clothing is casually speaking to a female brunette on a couch, who was dressing in an elegant orange and yellow dress with a nifty crown akin to a princess.

A blond male in a red gi was joking with another brunette, who is a male with a white headband and blue clothing while a another blond male stood close by in clothing that'll fit right in Conan the Barbarian; he had a stern face that clearly said that he would rather be somewhere else. Finally taking all the zaniness of the scenario in, Al took a deep breath, "Ok, fam. You're clearly not in Kansas anymore." He eyed the buffet table, which has been somewhat ransacked by the two hulking brutes of the room; however, there was some food still available. "There! Thankfully, something that'll calm my ass down," Al praised, wiping the surprising amount of sweat from his forehead with his left hand. He headed over to the table, scanning the top of the furniture for something edible. Luckily, there was two slices of an extra large pepperoni pizza left along with one chocolate chip cookie and one vanilla cupcake. "Jackpot!" Al grinned eagerly, grabbing a plate to snag the spoils. As he was busy with that, he didn't footsteps coming up behind him. Al turned around to leave but stopped to avoid collision with the blue haired man who came over to greet the kickboxer. "Oh shit! My bad, fam." He set the plate down on the buffet table.

"Don't fret. It was my fault for not letting myself be known," The blue haired man smiled warmly. The stranger carried a relaxed air about himself. He wasn't at all snooty as some UFC fighters that Al knew back on Earth.

"It's fine, either or. So, I take it that your one of the new fighters here? Oh, the name's Alphonse," Al introduced calmly, jutting a thumb to himself.

The bluenette nodded, "Yes and greetings, Alphonse. I be Chrom from the Haildom of Ylisse. I was just conversing with Princess Daisy of Sarasaland. She's actually very eager to partake in this tournament on the notion that a friend of her is a veteran of this."

"Well, that's one reason to join. How about you? Got any kin or friends in this?" Al asked, taking a bite out of his pizza.

"Yes, my daughter, Lucina, and both my tacticians, Rob and Robin, were in the fourth tournament. I attempted to join them but one of the experts of the sport bested me, so I had to sit out and recover. Now, this time, I'll make that Falcon regret putting me down," Chrom growled intensely.

Al chuckled as he swallowed, "Good to see your pumped."

"YOO-HOO, CHROM!" The two men turned their heads to the female brunette, running towards them. She skid on her heels to stop. "I was wonder where you ran off to," Daisy panted, before eyeing Al. At the sight of a new person, she perked up immediately and smiled at Al, "Hi, I'm Daisy! What's your name?"

"Hey, ma'am. I'm Alphonse," Al bowed, being courteous of a royal.

Daisy giggled at the treatment, "No need for that, dude. I'm totally 'lax about formality and stuff."

"I agree. It tends to be bothersome to pose as something that you're not," Chrom added with a shrug.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Al apologized, inciting more giggles from the young princess. "So Chrom here told me that you had a friend in this too, right?"

"Yeah, my friend, Peach, been doing this kind of thing since she joined the second tournament. I thought of throwing my crown into this shin-dig too!" Daisy answered with a grin before adding a coy wink. "Hope that you two boys can keep up." Ah, a cheeky one, eh? This lady got pep in her step.

"Lady, ask and you soon shall receive," Al smirked. The man is always game for a fight, male or female.

Chrom smirked as well, "As if I ever disappoint a princess." The three shared a laugh from the playful banter. Hm, so far, not two of them pried about Al's condition. If Al could just stand out of the crocodile's and dragon's way, then he'll be fine. While Al ponder on this, someone kept poking at his stub arm. Someone, hopefully not the dragon or crocodile, is about to get bitchslapped with his stub arm if they don't stop messing him.

"Aye, who keeps pokin' my-" Al began with a glare as he turned around to see one of the squid kids, the pink-haired female with the red cap, was prodding his stub. She looked upward to his glare as her pupils shrank and her eyebrows curved inward.

"EEP!" She squeaked, leaping upwards as one of her friends, the yellow one with the headset, walked up to them.

"Excuse me. Did you happen to see a pink Inkling around here?" The yellow Inkling questioned, looking across the room. Al pointed upward to the puddle of...pink paint on the ceiling.

"I guessing she's up there," Al hypothesized. The yellow Inkling follow his finger and smiled upon seeing the puddle. The poor thing was scared to death.

"Ah, thanks. Brittney, please come down! He was just curious about your touching," The yellow Inkling begged. It was slowly working as Brittney emerged from her puddle and hopped down.

Daisy looked toward his arm too, "Yeah, what is up with your arm?

Al sighed, "It's a prenatal condition that I have since I was born. There no known cure for it as well. It was hard at first to perform the most basic tasks but it just grew on me to be honest. Also, don't feel sorry. I deal with enough of that at home." Daisy responded with a unsure nod. No, no, NO! And he was just making progress too!

"Brittney, go apologize to him," He heard the yellow Inkling urged. He saw Brittney walk up to him, right hand wrapped around her left hand while she looked away. The poor girl just had to ask, but Al could tell that talking isn't really her forte. He soften his gaze as she eventually meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry for bothering you. I-I was just curious about your a-arm," Brittney stuttered.

"It's fine, girl. Again, I deal with this at home. Now, come on, lemme see a smile," Al insisted, jutting out his own. Slowly, Brittney's lips curved into a small but genuine smile. "Attagirl!" Finally, they all hear a sound of a portal opening as Master and Crazy Hand emerged out of it.

"Hello, everyone. Having a great time getting to know one another," Master Hand greeted with a wave.

The blonde in the red gi nodded, "Yeah, it's fine and all but I'm inching to rumble!" He pounded his fists together in confidence.

"Likewise, human. I want to rein that Hunter's neck nice and slowly," The purple dragon hissed, licking his chops hungrily.

"Yeah, yeah, you're all ready to scrap but my bro is gonna go over the ground rules so shaddup and listen!" Crazy demanded.

"Thank you, Crazy. Now, we hands are a nice bunch to get to know but here are the rules. Failure to follow them will lead to suspension from the tournament or worse, permanent expulsion from the tournament. Now the matches are all three stock for seven minutes. There are no fighting outside to keep some of you in line. No items outside of the battle arenas for any reasons. All of you will be assigned a room that pertains to the universe that you came from. Any questions?" Master asked as Al's hand raised up. "Yes, Alphonse?"

"What are the matches that are in the tournament?" Al pried. Can't go in blind without knowing the rules.

"One on one. Basically, knock your opponent off the arena to take a stock. Take all the stocks and you move on. Since there is seventy two of you, the will be six mini-tourneys with twelve fighters in total. As for exhibition matches, you can do up to eight fighters. There's also three on three or five on five matches called Squad Strike. There is multi-man smash where you can fight ten, hundred fighters, for five minutes, for fifteen minutes, and cruel smash if you're really want to test your might. These matches don't affect your standing but they're good for earning gold," Master advised.

"Anything else, Ol' Alleyway?" Crazy questioned.

Al shook his head, content with the answers.

"Now, anyone else?" Master called out. Murmurs could be heard as they voiced no. Master nodded slowly before snapping his fingers to open eleven portals. "Now, the party is officially over. Return to your homes for tomorrow. In the morning, a portal shall open for you to go through to your new living quarters. Head down to the mess hall afterwards to eat breakfast then go to the auditorium for the introduction assembly. Understand? Alphonse, stay behind so that we can talk to you."

The newbies voiced there agreements before walking towards to their personal portals. "Farewell for now, Alphonse," Chrom waved before stepping through the portal.

"See ya, Al," Daisy grinned before giving him a tight, quick hug. After that, she dashed through her portal.

Every portal closed as the hands closed in slowly on Al. "So, whaddya think, Alleyway?" Crazy prodded.

"Hmmm, the contestants are quirky in a sense and I'm used to knocking fools on their ass instead of off the arena but I'll manage. ...I'm joining!" Al exclaimed with gusto.

"SPLENDID! We'll talk to you about your moves tomorrow after the assembly. Welcome to the Smash Brothers tournament, Alphonse Stark! We look forward to your excellent skill!" Master yelled triumphantly. "We'll see you tomorrow!" He opened a sole portal for Al, who waved goodbye and walked through.

 **A/N: Ah, wanted to get this chapter done pronto. Now, Al has accepted the invite and is becoming a Smasher. He has grasped a taste of the fellow competitors so far but this hasn't scratched the tip of the iceberg. Also, the alternate colors are there with the original. See you later, gators.**

 **One last thing, here the Inkling's names:**

 **Orange: Jenny**

 **Blue: Bruce**

 **Yellow: Diana**

 **Cyan: Felix**

 **Pink: Brittney**

 **Green: Darius**

 **Purple: Zoe**

 **Midnight Purple: Carson**


	3. Discontinue

PSA: I will be blunt with this: I am losing interest with fanfiction. There's much more planning that goes with this unlike drawing. If I'm wrong about that, feel free to correct me in a CIVILIZIED manner! I also want to do bigger and better things with myself as a new years resolution. They're personal not typical like losing weight and shit and I'm not going to say what because it's none of your business. Also, it is unfair for y'all for me to wait on my slow ass to chug out a chapter. Do not try and convince me otherwise because again, I'm just losing interest. I'm not depressed or anything of that sort. 


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